


Time for an Intervention

by snapdragonpop007



Category: Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Apparently I do my best writing at midnight, Blow Jobs, Frottage, Grinding, Hand Jobs, I can’t believe I have more parts of this planned out, I wanna say it’s hate sex, M/M, basically they’re going at it like teenagers, but it’s not really?, but not?, it kinda is, lets be real, this is probably not the first time they’ve done this, what have i become
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-10-23 06:05:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17677853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snapdragonpop007/pseuds/snapdragonpop007
Summary: Hal and Bruce have issues. They like to think they’ve solved them.Barry and Clark are inclined to disagree.





	1. Chapter 1

Hal wasn’t entirely sure how he got here. He and Bruce were arguing about something stupid—God, Hal couldn’t even remember what it was now—and Hal had followed Bruce into the file room and then Bruce was shoving him against a wall and threatening him with some kind of bodily harm and Hal had grabbed a fist full of Bruce’s cape and he thought he meant to punch him but instead he kissed him.

Well, kiss probably wasn’t the right work. Hal had more or less smashed their faces together. Bruce was the one who had shoved his tongue down Hal’s throat.

Hal moaned, pulling Bruce closer and tilting his head and biting at Bruce’s lower lip. 

Bruce dropped his hands to Hal’s thighs, pushing him further up the wall. Hal jumped up, wrapping his legs around Bruce’s waist and pulling back to look at him. He was a little surprised to see that Bruce’s cheeks were flush. 

Hal took in a few breaths, brought his hands up to Bruce’s cowl, then ripped it off and pulled him back into another kiss. 

Bruce’s fingers dug into Hal’s thighs, and Hal dug his heels in Bruce’s back. 

Bruce pulled away for not even a second. He kissed him again at a different angle, biting Hal’s bottom lip hard enough to make it bleed. Hal groaned, thrusting his hips against Bruce’s. Then he pulled back, dropping his hands to Bruce’s waist, trying to find a seam in the monstrosity Bruce called a costume.

“Off—get it off—“ 

Bruce dropped his hands from Hal’s thighs, and Hal brought his arms up to Bruce’s shoulders. He kissed Hal again, licking away the drops of blood as he undid his belt. Hal heard it fall somewhere, but he wasn’t as concerned about it as he was with Bruce licking his way into his mouth again.

Bruce pulled away again. Hal tried to chase after him, but he had brought one hand up and was pushing Hal back. 

“I expect you to return the favor, Jordan.” Bruce growled it out and _Jesus Christ_ that went straight to Hal’s dick. 

“Oh, I’ll do more than that, Spooky.” Hal brought his hands up, digging his fingers in Bruce’s hair—it had the tiniest curl to it and Hal couldn’t decide if it was hot or adorable—pulling him back into a kiss that was all tongue and teeth. 

Hal let his concentration drop, the armor fading away and leaving him in the clothes he threw on this morning. Which, really, wasn’t a whole lot to begin with. He had put on sweatpants and called it good. 

Bruce dropped his hands again, leaving Hal to hold himself up as Bruce worked on getting all that stupid kevler off. He was kissing down Hal’s neck when he got off enough to expose the leggings he wore under the suit, and he bit at Hal’s collar bone and thrust his hips against Hal’s at the same god damn time.

Hal whined, jerking his hips and needing to get rid of that last little bit of fabric yesterday. 

Fingers were digging into his thigh again, and apparently Bruce was determined to suck a bruise onto Hal’s shoulder if the way he was biting and sucking at Hal’s skin was anything to go by. 

“Damit, Bats, will you just—“ Hal dropped his head back against the wall, closing his eyes and gasping in a breath as Bruce palmed him through his sweatpants. 

“That what you want?” Bruce’s breath was _very_ warm against Hal’s skin. 

“Yes—fuck—!” Hal absolutely did not yelp as Bruce slid his hand into Hal’s pants. “Take the glove off you fucking—“ 

Bruce pulled his hand back and Hal almost whined about it. 

Bruce looked at Hal, taking the glove in between his teeth. He ripped it off, throwing it somewhere and holy hell that was the _hottest_ thing Hal had ever seen. 

He worked Hal’s sweatpants down enough to free his dick, and Bruce wasted no time in wrapping his hand around it and rubbing his thumb over the head and slit. 

Hal threw his head back and let out the filthiest moan he had ever heard. 

“Shit— _Bruce_ —“

There wasn’t quite enough precum to make this one hundred percent enjoyable, but Hal was pretty sure he could give less than two shits. 

Bruce was kissing him again, and Hal moaned into it, tilting his head and thrusting his hips into Bruce’s hand. 

Bruce seems to get it, stroking Hal in time with his thrusts. He was going for fast and rough more than he was enjoyable, but Hal could hardly care. At this point his need to get off was fucking _outstanding_ and he would take whatever Bruce was willing to offer. 

It didn’t take too long—Hal was cumming into Bruce’s hand a few minutes later, and when Bruce pulled his hand back and licked it off Hal let go of Bruce and dropped to his knees. He pulled the leggings down—fucking _Christ_ Bruce was big—opened his mouth and put Bruce’s cock in his mouth.

Bruce hissed, dropping a hand and tangling his fingers in Hal’s hair. Hal hummed, enjoying the sting in his scalp as he bobbed his head. 

“ _Hal_ —“ 

It didn’t take Bruce too much longer either, and Hal was swallowing down the last of Bruce’s cum when there was a knock at the door.

“Bruce? You in there?”

“Shit—“ Bruce pushed Hal off. 

Clark was outside the door, and both Bruce and Hal knew that Clark knew they were in there because he had that stupid super hearing and he had probably heard the entire goddamn thing. 

Hal formed his suit and as Bruce pulled his leggings back up, tugging his cowl back on just as Clark opened the door.

“Oh—Lantern.” He at least had the grace to looked surprised, but then again, maybe he hadn’t actually heard them. He wasn’t blushing like crazy like he usually did. “What are you—“

“Hi, Supes. Bye Supes!” Hal zipped past him on shaky legs, generating a stasis field a moment later so he could fly off.

Oh, he was dead.

He was so _fucking_ dead


	2. Chapter 2

They hadn’t talked about it.

Bruce and Hal and skidded around each other on the watchtower, refusing to make eye contact when they were required to be in the same room for longer than three seconds. Everyone noticed, but most were too scared to say anything. Hal saw Clark talking to Bruce, and Barry had tried to bring it up, but Hal had shrugged it off and distracted the speedster with ice cream because he wasn’t particularly inclined to talk about his upcoming death (he had just left Bruce with Clark when it was painfully obvious they had just fucked and Bruce was _so_ going to kill him).

Then, about three weeks later, they did it again. 

Hal could remember what this fight had been about. He needed to go of world for a meeting on Oa, and Bruce thought he was needed more on Earth at the moment, because an earthquake had hit California and they needed all the relief help they could get. 

_It’s a meeting, lantern_. Bruce had said. _You can miss one meeting_. 

Hal had been about to tell Bruce that he could stick it up his ass when he locked eyes with Bruce. Then Bruce bent him over the console of the computers in the monitor room and kissed the words right out of his mouth. Hal had shoved him back, pushed him into the chair and bounced on Bruce’s dick till he got off. 

Then he zipped off to Oa, making it back a day later and still in time to help with relief efforts. 

Bruce had jacked Hal off in a alley a few minutes after he landed, then fucked him in another file room when they got back, then Hal had fucked Bruce a few days later because he finally figured out how go get that stupid kevlar off. 

They did this for the next few months. 

Hal though—well, he couldn’t call in nice per-say, but it was a great way to work out this aggression they had. And if Hal was a little sore a few days out of the month, then so be it. 

It was a shame he couldn’t ward off Barry with ice cream and sweets for a little longer.

“Hal, we need to talk.”

“ ‘bout what?” Hal held out a Snickers bar to Barry. 

Barry eyed it. He took if from Hal, and, thinking that his job was done, Hal got out of the chair to wander over to the coffee machine. Hal had offered to take monitor duty that week, and Bruce had been nice enough to put him with Barry. 

“About you and Bruce.” 

Hal bit back his groan as he poured himself a cup. “There’s nothing to talk about, Speedy.” 

“Yes, there is.” Barry set the candy down-- _he set the fucking candy down_ \--crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in the chair. “You and Bruce have been fighting--”

“We always fight.” Hal cut him off, hoping to cut the rest of this conversation off. “It’s not a new thing.” 

“Not this much, you don’t.” Hal could feel Barry’s eyes on him as he walked back to his chair. “I can’t remember the last time you two went three days without yelling at each other.” 

Hal frowned. He didn’t think he and Bruce were going at it that much. “We work it out.” 

“How? How do you work it out, Hal?”

“It doesn't matter, Bar,” Hal took a long sip from his coffee, hoping Barry would drop it. Unfortunately, Barry just waited him out. 

“It _matters_ because I’m worried about you.” 

And God dammit, Barry was doing those sad eyes of his that Hal couldn’t ever say no to. 

“I’ve been having sex with Bruce.”

Whatever Barry had been expecting to hear it wasn’t that.

“What?” Hal was positive if Barry had been drinking something he would have done a spit take.

“We fight, we go work it out with a quicky in the break room and move on.” Hal took another sip of his coffee, wrinkling his nose at the bitter after taste. “It’s not that big of a deal.” 

“Not that--you two have been having sex?” 

“Yup.” Hal hummed, popping the ‘p’ rather obnoxiously. 

“Jesus Christ.” Barry dropped back in the chair. “That can’t--that can’t be healthy.”

“We use condoms.”

“That’s not what I--Hal, you’re not working anything out.” Barry’s face was starting to contort into that let me help you Hal look, and Hal was not in the mood to deal with that.

“We’re both adults, Bar. We know what we're doing, so can we just drop it?” 

Barry snapped his mouth shut. He clearly wasn’t done talking about it, but Hal had been snippy enough that they could move on.

 

\--

 

“So, what’s going on with you and Hal?”

Bruce paused his typing. He hadn’t heard Clark come into the cave. 

“Did Dick let you in?” he didn’t even think his oldest was home.

“No, Damian did. He’s upstairs with Jon.” Clark perched himself on the console of the computer, right in Bruce’s line of sight. “What’s going on, Bruce?”

“Nothing is going on.” Bruce tried to ignore Clark, but he was making it rather difficult. 

“You’re barley at the watchtower anymore, and when you are you fight with Hal and then disappear for an hour with him before leaving again.” Bruce knew that Clark knew what he and Hal were doing—he was just too modest to say it. “That’s not nothing.”

“We’re two grown adults, Clark. We’re allowed to have sex.” 

Bruce was half tempted to kick Clark out, that’s how much he didn’t want to have this conversation. But if he did that then Jon would have to go as well, and then Damian would be mopey for the rest of the day and Tim would hole himself up in the cave to avoid it and Jason would probably come storming in and then Dick would follow and try and make Damian feel better while Jason hung in the cave with Tim and Bruce would feel bad and probably buy another pet for each of them to fix it. 

“That’s not—I know you are, but—“ Clark was turning an impressive shade of red. “The way you’re going about it is the problem.”

Bruce clenched his jaw.

“Bruce, I know, okay? 

“Know what?” Bruce really didn’t want Clark to go there.

“How you feel about Hal.” And he fucking went there. “You’re just hurting yourself—“

“I don’t want to talk about this, Clark—“

“Well that’s too bad, because we’re going to.” Bruce finally looked away from the computer, looking up at Clark. He looked concerned. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself, Bruce. It’s not fair to Hal, and it’s certainly not fair to you.” 

Bruce’s jaw hurt from how hard he was clenching his teeth. 

“You’re killing yourself over this—“

“Relationships aren’t always as happy go lucky as yours, Clark.” 

Bruce wished they were, but it wasn’t like Hal was looking for anything permanent. They were just fooling around. 

“I know they’re not, I just—“ Clark took a pause, taking in a sharp breath. “You can’t keep pretending this is a no strings attached kind of deal. You have feelings for Hal that aren’t just gonna go away.” 

God, Bruce hated it when Clark was right. 

“You have to talk to him—“

“I don’t _have_ to do anything.” Bruce cut him off.

“Will you _please_ talk to him.” Clark was quick to amend. “I hate seeing you like this, Bruce.” 

Bruce was grinding his teeth again. He dentist was going to hate him—she already did, if he was being honest. 

“I think about it.”

 

—-

 

Bruce had thought about it, and he decided to ignore it the next time he saw Hal. 

The lantern had popped in while Batman and Superman were on monitor duty. Clark fixed Bruce with one of Those Looks as soon as Hal walked in, which Bruce elected to ignore. 

“You haven’t seen Flash around, have you?” Hal asked. He wasn’t in his uniform—in fact, he looked particularly frazzled as he fiddled with the zipper on his jacket and ran a hand through his already messy hair. 

“Can’t say that I have.” Superman answered.

Bruce was choosing not to look at either of them. Hal was looking good and Bruce wasn’t to going to _fucking_ look because Clark’s stare would upgrade to an Alfred Eyebrow Arch if he did. 

“Oh, thank god.” Hal all but collapsed in on himself, slumping against the back of Bruce’s chair. 

Bruce was absolutely not going to turn around. 

Clark looked from Bruce to Hal, then from Hal to Bruce. “I need to go talk to J’onn about something real quick.”

Bruce snapped back, looking at Clark with what he hoped translated to _if you step out of this room I will jam kryptonite into your neck_.

Clark, that bastard, ignored it. 

“Oh,” Hal had wrapped his arms around the back of the chair, dropping his chin on Bruce’s shoulder. He smelled nice--like something clean and cold. Like space, Bruce supposed, if he really had to put a name to it. “You have fun with that, Supes. I’m just gonna hide out here for a few hours.” 

Clark gave Bruce That Look again, then zipped out. 

Bruce took a very long, very deep breath.

“Get off me, Jordan.”

Hal rolled his eyes, but complied. He circled around the chair, taking up residence on the console. He was wearing skinny jeans, and Bruce looked a little longer than was probably appropriate as Hal crossed his legs. 

“What are you even doing here?” Bruce asked, turning his chair away from Hal and back to the computer. “You have the day off.” 

“Yeah, but Barry keeps trying to talk about _this_ ,” Hal waved his hand between the two of them. “Figured this was the one place he wouldn’t look for me.” 

Bruce looked back at Hal. 

Hal was smirking, his head tilted as he looked Bruce over. Bruce swallowed, and when Hal opened his legs a little more and leaned forward just a tad bit Bruce pulled him from his perch and into his lap and kissed him as messily and as hard as he could.

Hal groaned and immediately went to take off Bruce’s cowl, digging his fingers in Bruce’s hair and tugging. Bruce dropped his hands to Hal’s ass, pulling him flush against his chest. 

“Shit—Bruce,” Hal pulled back, cheeks flush and lips swollen. 

Bruce could hear a little voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Clark, yelling at him to _just talk him, gosh darn it!_

Bruce ignored that, and instead stood up, digging his fingers in Hal’s thighs as Hal wrapped his legs around Bruce’s waist. 

“Have I ever told you that you smell like lilac?” Hal dropped his voice to a whisper, lifting a hand to run through Bruce’s hair. “It’s nice.”

Bruce swallowed, his heart beating just a little bit faster.

Then Hal was kissing him again, and Bruce was pushing Hal back onto the console and working open those stupidly tight jeans. 

 

—

 

“Did you talk to him?”

Bruce looked up at Clark.

Hal had left a little bit ago with new bruises and wild hair and a grin and a _same time next week, Spooky?_ Bruce had just grunted, telling himself that he was _not_ disappointed that Hal was leaving.

He wasn’t.

“No.” Bruce said. 

Clark threw his hands up. “What the heck, Bruce?” 

“I never agreed to it. I just said I would think about it.” 

Clark let out a choked gasp, mumbled something, threw his hands in the air again, then walked right back out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruce is really, really bad at feelings

**Author's Note:**

> It is very late, I haven’t slept like a normal human being in two weeks, and I’m posting from my phone 
> 
> Enjoy


End file.
